


essential

by swancharmings



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M, season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings
Summary: He almost takes it for granted. The fact that she is always there. // Pearson Hardman is forced to close for a few weeks, and it makes Harvey realize what he’s been missing.
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	essential

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt by darveydreamin on Twitter: “the firm is closed & everyone is working from home. pre-canon darvey don’t know how to handle this “new normal” of not seeing each other after working almost every minute of every day together. when it’s all over, they finally see what everyone saw.” My brain took this and ran with it. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Biggest thank you to my betas, Heather and Alyssa, you deserve the world and without you, I’m empty. And a huge thank you to Marie for her many votes of confidence.
> 
> Please let me know what you think :)

It’s different without Donna.

They have always been close — physically, mentally. In sync. She’s the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees before he goes home at night. When the world is closing in around him, the clacking of her keyboard through the glass or her honeyed laughter on the intercom washes everything else away.

He almost takes it for granted. The fact that she is always there.

When Pearson Hardman is forced to close -- due to unforeseen circumstances beyond their control -- Harvey is thoroughly pissed off and utterly displaced, something he hasn’t felt since he was a young twenty-something leaving a broken home.

Client contact is forbidden, and so he’s stuck answering emails and shouting down the phone and his hands itch to do something more productive.

More than once, he finds himself looking up, expecting to see a flash of red in the corner of his eye, only to come face-to-face with his too-sterile kitchen instead.

He scowls, presses his palms into his eyes.

As the days drag on, Harvey discovers that he doesn’t miss  _ work _ so much as he misses  _ her. _

It’s the little things. Cups of coffee in the morning. Knowing looks after Louis says something particularly standoffish. Looping cursive on sticky notes adorning client documents. Laughing over shitty take-out as he imitates Paul Porter and she nearly falls out of her chair.

He even starts to  _ hear  _ her after a while, the ghost of her presence lingering. Her gentle voice reminds him to go easy on this client as he picks up the phone; her business is her livelihood. A slender eyebrow raised in concern when he finishes his third cup of coffee for the day before noon.

He just... misses her.

So he calls her.

“Bored already?” she teases after the first ring, and the calming effect of her voice would surprise him if he wasn’t so damn happy to hear it.

“You know me. I’m not made for isolation.”

“Hmm, could’ve fooled me, Mr. I-work-alone.”

He ignores the jab and leans back in his chair. “Trial would have been today.”

Donna’s answering grin is opposite him at that moment. “Can opener?”

Harvey perks up. “Wait a minute, you have it?”

“Of course I do. We have to be prepared.”

He can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.

“You know what to do.”

———

They talk for hours every day after that. Not about work, either, though naturally that’s where the conversation starts.

“ _ Seinfeld _ ?” Harvey chuckles. He’s missed two virtual client meetings this afternoon alone but he can’t bring himself to care. “Really?”

“Oh, come on. The Christmas card nip slip? Classic,” Donna replies around a mouthful of wine. This doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ms. Paulsen, are you drinking on the clock?”

“So what if I am?”

“I could fire you.”

“But you won’t.”

“No,” he drawls, “I won’t.”

“Because I,” and she pauses for another sip of wine, “already rescheduled Brian Shelling and Avery Lombardi to next week.”

Harvey shakes his head in awe. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” she deadpans.

“Hey.”

“You know it’s true.”

He does.

———

They’ve established a routine — another ritual, he notes blithely — and it’s one he has no intention to break.

The following morning he calls under the pretense of asking about the Mendelsen briefs.

“Give me a minute,” Donna huffs, and she sounds out of breath.

“What, you just run a marathon?”

There’s silence, and Harvey grows concerned.

“Donna?”

“Ugh,” she sighs, and there’s crackling while she reaches for the receiver. “You’re ruining my zen.”

“Your — what?”

“You interrupted my morning yoga session, so this better be good.”

Images spring to mind that Harvey doesn’t normally allow himself to access, but that now flood his brain after nearly a week of no human contact. Of no  _ Donna _ contact.

“Oh.” He shifts uncomfortably on his chair.

“You should give it a try. I think you’d be a lot less uptight.”

Harvey scoffs. “I am not  _ uptight _ .”

He can hear her roll her eyes. “Last week you bit Mike’s head off for moving The Spinners behind Charles Bradley.”

“Because only an animal would do that.”

Donna laughs and the sound soaks into his skin like sunlight.

“Come on. On the floor.”

Harvey groans. “Uh-uh.”

“Yeah, huh. Let’s go.”

“How will you even know I’m doing it?” he retorts, as he slides to the ground without hesitation.

“I’m Donna. I’ll know. Just like I know you’re rolling your eyes at me right now.”

“Did you bug my apartment?”

“Please, like the living room is where I’d put a camera,” she whimsies.

He doesn’t respond, increasingly thankful that she  _ can’t _ see him right now.

Harvey follows her instructions, hanging on every word and he realizes if there is anyone in the world he would do yoga with at ten-thirty in the morning, it’s Donna Paulsen.

———

Donna calls  _ him  _ next time, and he can’t help but grin as he sees her name flash across the screen.

“Working late?” he quips as he pours himself a drink.

“Are you serious? I don’t have my crazy boss breathing down my neck. I’m taking full advantage of this.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Turn on channel 7,” she says and Harvey is taken aback by the sudden change in conversation.

He’s wary, but he does it anyway. “Why?”

“Because we’re watching  _ The Sound of Music _ .”

Sure enough, Julie Andrews is parading through Austria with seven scrawny children.

“Donna,” he whines.

“Need I remind you that I sat through  _ The Terminator  _ three nights ago?”

He grumbles as the littlest Von Trapp shouts off-key.

“That’s what I thought.” Donna is giddy and that notion alone has Harvey settling into his couch, lips curling against the rim of his tumbler.

“You better not sing along,” he stipulates, though there is nothing in the world he’d like more.

“Harvey,” she  _ clucks _ her tongue, “You forget I’m classically trained. I can sing  _ circles  _ around Julie Andrews.”

Harvey finds the film much more enjoyable with Donna’s hushed alto filling his ears.

He dreams about a woman in his bed that night. Only unlike all the times before, she’s not faceless — she’s red hair and freckles and wide hazel eyes.

She’s  _ Donna _ .

And that’s when he realizes it’s never going to be anyone else.

———

It’s late — past-midnight late. Harvey is propped up on his elbow, cell phone resting on his pillow where he wishes she would be instead.

“I’m just saying,” he murmurs conspiratorially, “Louis feeding his cat grilled cheese is how the LITT-12 virus starts.”

Donna snorts. “Oh, lay off. That’s mean.”

Harvey shudders. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She snickers, then falls silent. “Harvey.”

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

He bristles. “What do you mean?”

“I  _ mean, _ you haven’t called me to arrange a meeting or update your calendar or ask what this or that client’s mother’s dog’s name is in the past two weeks.”

Harvey worries his lip between his teeth. “Are you saying —“

“No,” Donna interrupts. “I’m not saying it’s not...welcome. But we don’t do this.”

“We used to do this.” There’s a pang in his chest when he remembers why they don’t.

“I know, Harvey.” Donna is firm. “But there is a reason we stopped.”

Her rule. Hurt and anger swell and mix together and usually he’d deflect and move on but tonight he’s too tired, cut open and bleeding out, vulnerable in a way he only allows himself to be with her. And maybe he can blame the isolation for that, but he knows that’s not the case.

“I miss you, Donna.” It’s the easiest thing he’s ever said. It should honestly terrify him how easy it is, and it does, but it’s not a panic, soul-crushing fear; it’s a hopeful, tender, dive-off-the-deep-end fear.

There is a lot unsaid — there always is with them — but it’s that in-between that means the most and they both know it. They’ve known each other long enough to understand that  _ I miss you _ holds more weight between the lines than simply  _ I miss seeing you at work. _

“I miss you, too,” she breathes in his ear. “But this doesn’t change the fact that you said you never would have come over that night if you knew I would be working for you at Pearson Hardman.”

The sadness, the restraint in her tone strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

“Donna—“

“Harvey, it’s late,” she interrupts him. “We have to get some sleep.”

He wants to argue, but he doesn’t trust himself to say anything more.

“Good night, Donna.” He’s resigned, heart in his throat.

“Good night.”

He’s not exactly sure when she became more important to him than any job ever could, but he thinks it all started with a handshake and a promise.

———

They get the all-clear to go back to work on Monday morning.

Like most days, she is the first thing he sees when he steps into the lobby. Ivory dress that makes her hair pop, berry-red nails around twin paper cups, purse balancing on her elbow and hazel eyes bright and alert.

It’s been three weeks and the enormity of missing her comes crashing down around him in that single instant.

He’s not taking it for granted anymore.

Harvey strides forward and cups her face with no preamble, captures her lips in his, pushes her against the wall between the elevators and in front of everyone.

He pulls away and Donna’s eyes flutter open, dark and wide, lips parted inches from his own.

She’s shocked, but recovers quickly. The way only Donna Paulsen can.

“Miss me?”

“Screw lawyer,” he blurts and her eyebrows shoot up. “I never want to find out what kind of  _ man _ I am without you. Because I don’t like it, Donna. I didn’t like it at all.”

Donna stares back at him. He can’t quite read her and he feels his heart stop.

Finally her eyes crinkle and her lips turn up in a smile, and it beats again.

“Harvey,” she whispers. “You never have to worry about that.”


End file.
